


Crossroads- WIP

by orbiting_Neptune



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreams, Future Fic, Time Travel, Utopia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbiting_Neptune/pseuds/orbiting_Neptune
Summary: Set in a utopian future that occured after the mysterious "Change" Buffy Summers and a collection of other beings deemed "worthy" live in peace where they want for nothing and can have everything.Now 105 (though proudly looking 56) Buffy has outlived or lost all her loved ones from the Before Era. Dreaming one night, she is brought to the crossroads, a place reserved for the most dutiful and loving heroes in history. When faced with a chance she will never get again can she save her loved ones and prevent the Change? Because come on, did you really think Buffy Summers would trust a utopian government? Our girl was playing the long game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS A DRAFT AND THE SUMMARY IS SORT OF WHERE I'M PLANNING TO GO WITH THIS PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!

She observed; layed out in front of her, every aspect of who she was. All the puzzle pieces that were pulled together by hair-fine threads to create her own personal brand of existence. Snapshots of moments floating and falling like liquid through her fingers. Each shining in high saturated colour and echoeing out words she'd never had the time to remember.

"And honey, try not to get kicked out."

"You're a hell of a woman."

"Get out!"

The snapshots drifted in mid-air around the humongous cave, blue and imposing. Though, as far as Buffy could tell, empty aside from her small frame. To be brought here in a dream should have been something wonderful, an oppurtunity to see and hear the people she had loved so dearly who had been torn away with time, dragged in some cases. 

But something was amiss, that well-  
known bitter taste of some other power was back again, causing goosebumps up and down her arms, now speckled with age spots and scars from a lifetime of fight- before the Change. Despite the need for regulating temperature being a long lost worry (she had the chip fitted in her chest twenty years ago) she reflexitvely ran her hands over her arms as a cold wind beckoned down from above. 

She watched in slow horror as the skin tightened in wake of her fingers, and began to feel a deep burning in the pit of her stomach. It rose furiously and with it the urge to breathe-gasp for the air that had died with the Change- for the past.


	2. The Buffy Question/ A day in the change part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy's life is simple and peaceful after the Change, but with a few conditions that make living it a little harder than it should be.
> 
> In this chapter we get a little background on the big wigs behind the operation (OCs- if that's not your thing don't worry, I'll put a little summary at the bottom :) and why Buffy hasn't nipped this whole opressive-utopia thing in the bud.

Ping

The muted sound of the toaster accompanied the door of Buffy's encasement cylinder swinging open with a small groan, and the first set of her shots for the day.

Her suite was a mis-matched collection of the new technology and a few gems from the past. 

The Others had very strict rules about keeping artifacts from the Before Era;  they must add to the living experience, and not encourage the destructive qualities that ruined the world from Before. No mirrors, vulgar expressions of belief and absolutely nothing that depicts  the Before Era as anything but a ticking time bomb.

This last rule, written carelessly at the bottom of every contract she had to sign was the most tortourous one for Buffy. With every artifact she had come to collect from the holding facility over the years, she was reminded that everything she had once had was gone, and even if brought back into her world by some outlawed twist of fate could hold no relevance to her life now.

Where were we? 

Oh. The toaster.

The shots were short and came in quick succession, spreading clear liquid through her body, they kept her "regular" or rather, kept her power supressed. If you think it's odd that she's allowing this to happen, then you're thinking right. 

Being revered as history's greatest slayer sounds like an honour, but after the Change, it was the equivalent to having an obnoxiously large neon sign floating above your head announcing "I could be a problem!" 

So the Others all made a mutual decision.

Take care of it.

Make her think she wanted it.

***  
Some years before:

 

Garcia leaned forward on the triangular table with an exasperated sigh. They had been waiting for days to speak with her and she was yet to appear. 

He hadn't waited for a girl like this since his encounter with a Chaos Demon who stood him up. Her name was Meg he recalls, and they would never would have worked out anyways, inter-dimensional, inter-species relationships rarely do. 

Watching his associate from the corner of his good eye, he felt a tinge of annoyance at his peaceful expression. 

"Quit your staring, halfbreed."

The short, clipped sentence came from the turned back of a tall, but not imposing man who called himself Tiberius. He stood facing a large glass window, undoubtedly composed of many layers of bullet-proof glass. His face carried a bemused look, as he watched the steady construction of a building below him.

Garcia watched as he pressed his forehead to the glass, as if his implant was not giving him the most detailed view of the action below him  it could. 

"I ordered you to QUIT halfbreed!" 

The man turned, the swift movement causing his shirt sleeve to ride up, revealing a faded tattoo on his inner wrist. His face contorted with anger and his fists clenched reflexitively.

A snide grin spread across the demon's face, revealing even white teeth and split, pink tongue. 

"Bosslady doesn't like magicians, Ty. What's she gonna do with you when she sees that, huh?" 

He rose from the table, exposing his full face, one side covered with orange scales, and the abscence of an eye socket. The other, however, was perfectly smooth and olive with a piercing green eye twinkling with agression under long eyelashes.

The two men were interuppted by the opening of a small door in the tall, white walled room.

 In swept a woman, dressed as though she was privy to many decades in time, and had collected souveiners from every one. 

From the collar of a high-necked victorian blouse, a ridged bar of metal,similar to a nail, was present following the shape of her small and commanding face to rest solemnly in her cheek. It glistened in the clinical lighting as she moved about the room to rest at the highest point of the table.

 If it were anyone else, her mannerisms would imply some sort of fractured and frantic existence, however here only showed great power and an inner amuesment at the sorry nature of the world.

The power, Garcia could smell it. It reeked around her like the perfume of the girls he'd known in the Before era. She screamed authority, poise and...then she was really speaking. 

"I ought to call you gentlemen but after walking in on your petit arguement I have changed my mind."

Her laughter was gleeful and hard, and demanded no more voices to join it.

"I trust we all know why we are here..."

From the heart of table emerged a flickering hologram, outlined in blue, of an aged blonde woman, blotting her eyes with a tissue and what could be guessed to be a funeral. A leather arm snaked around her shoulders, the owner's face just out of frame. 

Garcia glowered with recognition. 

"What do we do with a woman like Buffy Summers?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you like, or have any suggestions. One wonderful comment was all I needed to properly start this (let's hope it goes well) so I'm pretty easy to please!
> 
> Bigwig summary: Demon halfbreed heartbreaker, Ex- wicca business guy and scary time-traveler woman (I love her) needed Buffy out of the way to create the Change. How they do it or, rather, convince her to let them, will hopefully revealed in part 2! (Because I TOTALLY know what I'm doing...aha)


	3. Hooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get know more about Tiberius' backstory, and how the Change impacted certain magical freedoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! (Or no one?) I'm trying to get back in to this so wish me luck! Please leave a comment if you like, any critique is welcome. Here we get a lil more about one of my own characters' backstories and how it links with the all mighty Buffinator.

Garcia exhaled, "what I wouldn't do..." The woman snapped her fingers in his direction, much like one would to refocus the attention of an excitable and easily distracted dog. Garcia drew back and champed his teeth at the manicured, bare nails which seemed awfully simplistic for a woman of such...glamour - though that seemed to be the wrong word.  The bosslady chuckled, a queen being amused by her court jester. 

Tiberius watched them both narrowly, and wondered why they wasted time on such bullshit. If he saw them anywhere else, he'd think they were just another villain and her man-servant, or even a pair of (admittedly odd) demonic lovers. But there was no love there, no rules, everything was gone. Worse than that, all that was left; shining, golden, brave, was about to be destroyed. And he was going to help. 

He had met her once. 

Buffy. 

Strung out in the back of an old warehouse on the outskirts of Sunnydale. Being lapped at by a group of vampires who hadn't eaten in a week. She flew in, and he doesn't mean that she jumped, or ran, or hell, even fell into his private paradise. She flew, as though  lived and breathed a little higher than everyone else there. She did. He was sure she had never had to beg to feel wanted. Her eyes were locked on one boy, or rather, man (he knew full well the distinction) in a darkened corner of the warehouse. He had never seen anybody want someone so much before. Her eyes blazed with, not anger, but pain. It was beautiful. He liked her best when she was hurting. 

The vamps surrounding him had gotten comfortable over the months he had started coming to the warehouse. They went slowly at first, sucking and biting gently, rubbing their cheeks against your flesh, and gripping your wrist, ankles or neck to speed up the flow. In retrospect, Ty knew that they had done that to give you as much physical contact as possible. 

When he was studying business at UC Sunnydale, he learnt that to effectively sell a product, you had to know your demographic. That's what they did. They knew who would come; touch - starved kids from a tiny town where people always died and never really lived even if they did manage to get through the nights. A part of him felt a sick twinge of irony at the fact that something so allegedly inhuman could know so much about the human condition. What we wanted. What we needed. Assuming you're human of course, reader.  

It didn't take long till they got you hooked. Then they go bolder, colder, drinking as much as they could without killing you all together. You knew they would, eventually, you just didn't know when. That night would have been his night. They had started to devour him, and he couldn't get them off, couldn't see where they were in the half dark. They were like bacteria, everywhere and nowhere all at once. She burst in, and they scarpered. Nearly all the blood and life drained out of him and he had never felt more high. He righted his glasses and started after her. That's right. He wore glasses back then, didn't he? 

Stepping out into the streetlights, he tried to catch sight of her in the dark;  a glimpse of a sliver of blonde hair, a tanned shoulder, an echo of a Californian roar. The street was empty aside from the dancing reflection of the streetlights on the sidewalk, and a single car speeding off into the distance. "Your move." He felt her say to him. She wanted to be found, chased down, right?

Tiberius started using magic after that night, he knew he couldn't keep up with her without the aid of a few supernatural tracking techniques.  He hadn't stopped, either. Not after the fall of Sunnydale, or the military overhaul. Or even the Change. The very way this woman watched her, in an orb which put out information very much like a security camera from before the change would made Ty laugh. It was primitive. Pathetic. He would have very much liked to have pulled rank and  told her so, but magic for all was strictly outlawed after the change. It wasn't worth it. Or rather, it was worth too much to him to keep his powers, to keep Buffy.        


End file.
